The rain in Spain.

In contrast to the seven weeks spent gallivanting around Italy and Portugal last year, this year I managed to secure a measly two weeks off from work. Which meant only two weeks somewhere away from the Dutch weather. Based largely on my childhood adoration of Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving (and slightly as an “up yours” to Portugal) I decided on Spain. By chance, my oldest friend, Loz, was going to be in Europe at that time, and we agreed to holiday together.

Both Loz and I are by nature slow travellers: two weeks in one city is perfectly normal, as we both like to get a feel for a place by getting lost at our leisure. We both like being able to have a regular café, and believe that frantically dashing around the top tourist sites is unlikely to offer an insightful impression of a new place. However, for our Spanish sojourn, we decided to be different for once and pack as much into two weeks as possible, trying to get an overview of a country, rather than an overview of a city.

Our itinerary was as follows: a few days in Barcelona, followed by a flight to Valladolid where we spent an afternoon, a day in Salamanca, a few days in Madrid, a couple of days in Seville, a day in Córdoba, a day in Granada and a couple of days recovering at the beach in Nerja.

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Future self will deal with that.

The other day, during the daily ritual of pointless procrastination on Facebook, I came across this posted on a now-forgotten someone’s page:

Being an Adult

Amongst all the “inspirational” quotes, clickbait headlines and 50s memes that are plastered all over Facebook, this struck a chord, precisely because I’d been having a conversation earlier with The Guru about how my new life goal was to become a functional adult.

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